


best practices

by avoidfilledwithcelluloid



Category: Death Note & Related Fandoms, Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Business AU, Coming Untouched, Desk Sex, Dom/sub, Erotic Use of the Term 'Sales Pipeline', Humiliation Fantasy, L in grey sweatpants, Light Bondage, M/M, Mentions of a Soul Cycle class, Power Dynamics, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Suits, Trans Male Character, since that's a thing for a lot of you i suppose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2020-12-27 05:35:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21113519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avoidfilledwithcelluloid/pseuds/avoidfilledwithcelluloid
Summary: Light has been climbing the corporate ladder at a big-time company thanks to his boss-with-benefits relationship with the CEO - otherwise known as L. But when his desire for the top floor office drives him to make a salacious deal, he's in for long, provocative meeting with high-ass stakes. Will his and L's horniness raise the corporate synergy? Or are there still surprises to be found in those expensive suits?(12/28: expanded with a third short holiday special chapter!)





	1. as per my last presentation

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this is a two part fic, made bc i went too long on a prompt fic. This first part is a fill for a "coming without being touched" prompt. Hope you enjoy! part two should be out by next weekend probably! it will probably have some dom/sub undertones, jsyk! okay, enjoy!!

As he stood outside the board room double doors—wood soaked in a near purple mahogany stain dotted with two gold knobs—Light fiddled with his watch. He thumbed over its face, still frustrated by the hour it told him as though frustration would change his being early for a meeting. It stared back, unconcerned. Headache throbbed through his skull—a hectic morning had him restless, pulled by a sinkhole inside himself that threatened to collapse his body’s organic building. Light adjusted his suit and straightened his tie; if he was going to come in early, anything being askew read as haste, which he couldn’t stand. The door opened to his touch, but when Light stepped inside, there was no one except L, swung to face away from him and toward a floor-to-ceiling window view of New York.

Light stood at the back of the room with his eyes trained on L, wondering whether he’d be acknowledged but not upset to have a moment of observation. To be honest, the entire reason Light was in New York was because of L offering him his first lower-level executive position while in the same bar as Light in Japan. His claim of Light understanding him, being the exact type of person who belonged at the top with him, hit with a decadent high—which Light inhaled as L went down on him in the tallest hotel in Tokyo. When explaining his new job and move to the US, Light told his parents he’d impressed the CEO of a Fortune 500 at an impromptu interview; L told Wammy—the founder and now head board member of the company L inherited from him—Light was the top student in Japan who could revitalize the company’s bottom line. It was the first half-dishonesty they shared, but not their last.

Light didn’t quite feel ashamed about the relationship he cultivated with his corporate superior. The man was smart and capable; Wammy had confessed to Light upon drinking heavily at a Christmas party that as a child, L’s investment work had saved the older man’s fortune—doubling it, in fact. He enjoyed their dialogues and distractions: late-night sessions in L’s top floor office, nude yet productive; erotic phone calls from one office to another just to rile the other up before client meetings; and L keeping Light close, promoting him again and again so they were always just a few floors apart. But it burned Light still to not have what he really wanted: to be in that big office, his power in the company securely the same as L’s.

Still gazing out the window, L swung his chair back and forth with his dark hair pushed into unbrushed slopes by air conditioning. Gold lamps, four in total, left the room both shadowed and glimmering, and made L’s expression undiscernible. In glimpses was his usual dark brown suit revealed—the color of his favorite chocolate candies, Light teased him once after hours, as he tugged that jacket off L’s broad thin shoulders. That same jacket tail billowed with every jerk of L’s leg, belaying the excess of fabric that characterized all his suits. While he obfuscated their over-sized appearance with excuses of picking up the wrong dry-cleaning or incompetent tailors, L wore the draping suits with a comfort Light both despised and gravitated toward. His own clothes, by contrast, fit him with perfect lines, which didn’t allow for slouching or bad moods; they kept him in a place of unwavering, exhaustive excellence. Sometimes when the sinkhole inside became stronger, Light imagined himself tucked into the wide breadth of L’s jacket and curled close to that rangy frame, smelling the clean soapy musk and disappearing into a brief universe of nearness.

He was captured in such a fantasy then—off-beat and sore from his poor morning. He wanted to be given something by the other man, desirous of positive attention. Light coughed into his elbow and dropped his notebook onto the table, making sure the noise was cacophonous. L paused his swing and turned the chair in a slow, measured circle to face Light; deep shadowed pockets under his eyes made his expression, though smiling, appear morose.

“Did you ever do theatre as a child?” L said, holding out a hand to beckon Light closer. “You have a good fake cough. I’d love to see you get applause for it sometime.”

“It’s not fake.” Light sauntered to the chair next to L’s and pulled it out, slipping into the buttery leather with a short huff. “You’re teasing me when I’ve had a hard day.”

“Poor vice president. All the way on the tenth floor, so far away from my office and its view.” L reached into his breast pocket, fingering through it before taking out two caramel hard candies. “Would you like a reward for taking the elevator?”

Light clicked his tongue but took the candy. It melted on his tongue as he looked out the same window L did, his eyes tracing the up-down skyscraper cutouts. A pang of homesickness—Tokyo’s sundown pink sky morphed by its towering buildings visible from his childhood balcony—stung his heart. He startled at a warm hand covering his own and looked to see L securing their fingers together in a locked tangle.

“Are you all right?” L asked. “If you’re feeling poorly, you can go home for the day. Or rest in my office.”

L spoke in a softer voice, prodding something tender inside Light ready to spout his own deep unhappiness. The sinkhole returned with memories of his bad morning: breakfast with a difficult client, who often made veiled comments about job insecurity for _real _Americans; and a phone call with his mother asking when he was going to bring a nice girl home from the job abroad he took. He’d spent his lunch hour sitting alone in his office, darkened and silent, while Light tried to convince himself against leaving, against a bone deep dissatisfaction with everything that wasn’t several floors above him and, now, holding his hand. Yet, instead of letting his tender spot spill out from L’s gentle press, Light shoved it down and gave a dismissive laugh.

“Oh yeah,” he said. “I’m just a little tired. You know how work can be. Or maybe you don’t, mister Boss’ Son.”

“Light.” A firm chord vibrated through his spoken name and Light tucked his chin down, not wanting to meet L’s eyes as he spoke. What a stupid thing to say—to show a glimmer of insecurity and impoliteness. “You don’t have to attend this meeting. If you’re feeling upset, you should tell me.”

Light fought off a snort. This was an obvious tactic to find some weakness in Light, to use against him and keep him square on the tenth floor. He worked a warm smile over his mouth and shook his head, a façade to show L how absolutely fine everything was. Thumb rubbing over Light’s knuckles, L popped his candy in mouth and rummaged through his pocket again.

“You’re always eating so many sweets,” Light said. “Are they all rewards for your _hard _work?”

His tone was mocking, but L didn’t take the bait. “I just like the pleasure of candy,” he said. “It’s simple. Easy to get and take, unlike other pleasures.” At this, he gave Light a look over, his wide eyes tracing over his body. Light shivered, a gaze as good as a caress to his nerves. “Speaking of,” L took from his pocket mid-size pink vibrator, attached to a longer cord and remote, “I have something for you.”

Light sucked hard on his caramel.

“What are you doing?” His question hissed between gritted teeth. “This is a business meeting, with my colleagues. You can’t ask that I use something like that around them.”

“Oh?” L pointed at Light with the vibrator. “Are you worried? Perhaps my vice president can’t keep his composure with this inside him. How unfortunate. I thought perhaps you were up for the challenge.”

In a slow squeeze, L gripped Light and turned his palm face up. The delicate pain echoed a mix of surprise and temptation through Light’s arm. It wasn’t unbearable discomfort, but bright and commanded his attention. L dropped the vibrator into his palm.

“I want you to have this inside you during the meeting. I have it linked to my phone,” he held up his smart phone, the screen opened on a simplistic app with a few toggle functions, “and can control the vibrations.” One at a time, L folded Light’s limp fingers around the vibrator as he spoke. “If I can make you come during the meeting, you have to do as I say for the rest of the day.”

“And what if I don’t come?”

“You get two caramels.”

Light squeezed his fist around the vibrator.

“Another piece of candy?” He rolled his eyes. “Seems a little unbalanced, doesn’t it?”

“If you don’t come,” L said, “I’ll give you my office. The whole thing. Are those balanced enough terms for you?”

In his palm, the vibrator’s silicone was tacky as Light grew warm with anticipation. The top floor office, with its beautiful windows, long and solid oak desk, and so much distance between it and everyone beneath—he would be untouchable. He stood from the table with the vibrator clutched in hand.

“I agree to your terms,” he said. “I hope you have moving boxes prepared, because I’ll be taking that office.”

L smiled, his teeth peeking between his pink lips.

“It’s bad business practice to be so assured before you know what your opponent has in store.” He leaned back in his chair, head cocked to the side. “Haven’t you listened during executive trainings?”

“Those trainings teach me how to sell things.” Light rolled his head back, cracking his neck. “Nobody needs to teach me how to win.”

“Such confidence.” Lamp light drew out the severe cut of L’s cheeks as he leveled Light with a significant look. “You should go get yourself situated. Meeting starts in five and I don’t want you to miss a moment of it.”

Light took his time in the bathroom easing the vibrator inside with lubricant provided from L’s bottomless pockets. He taped the cord to his thigh and reorganized himself, stopping short of leaving the bathroom stall. Hands pressed to his stomach, Light took a long inhale and exhale—indulging in the swell of his lungs. Inert within his pussy, the vibrator was more annoying than arousing. Only when he thought of the trials L’s finger might throw him through—dials moving, switches flipped—did giddiness infect him.

He re-entered the board room with a smooth gait, his suit and trousers secure in their neat folds. Other executives, assistants, and hangers-on had taken their places, with the few open spots being filled a few moments after Light sat down next to L. Chatter filled the stained wood walls about new business, what weekend plans people had. A fundamental instinct for eavesdropping almost distracted Light from his situation—until L tapped his hand.

“Are you ready?” L poised his other finger on his phone screen; his nails were clean, shining ovals screaming professional maintenance. He’d taken Light a few times to his preferred salon and worshiped his hands and feet afterward—the memory sent a warning itch through Light’s skin, livened as L stroked his thumb across his knuckles.

Light swallowed. “Yes.” He paused and leaned forward, elbows on the table so he could bend close enough to whisper to L. “Good luck.” A responding grin lifted L’s face, and a fearful weight lifted off Light’s chest as he did. With a well-manicured finger, L touched his phone screen.

The first vibrations were tremulous and hesitant—footsteps through an unfamiliar house. Light watched L tuck his hand and phone together into a loose trouser pocket and stand, gesturing to a woman near the back to turn on a projector. Mild discomfort subsided as long as Light sat with his legs apart, but once he crossed them, his pussy squeezed and trapped the vibrations. He bit his lip, unable to stop a single rock into the sensation; L brought up his first presentation slide, his eyes trained on Light with too much delight to have missed the movement.

“Our first quarter wasn’t exactly what we hoped.” L spoke in a slow mournful murmur, which the entire board room had to sit up and lean in to hear clearer. “But in our second quarter and further into third quarter, I see us meeting our fiscal year goals. Although greater cuts might need to be made…”

Light settled into his chair. After a few moments with the vibrator inside, his body relaxed and tuned into L’s presentation. With his resonant voice, L drilled financial reports and product roll-out information down into understandable language. While Light hated to use the word, something was dreamlike about how the man spoke, where each word was a crow sailing through the room—dark and opaque, but weightless, hollow-boned all the same. He followed the flight of L’s voice, almost lost in it, before he saw a twitch within a brown pocket.

Once a pattern-less hum, the vibrations became a pulse—thrumming in a wicked rhythm that grew stronger as Light squeezed his legs together. His pussy sang from the pulse, a repetitive tap against his inner walls, and he made the horrible discovery that to rock forward just right created friction between his clit and thigh.

“These projections shouldn’t be too difficult to understand.” L swung his attention between the note-scribbling suits around the table and back to Light, who burned under his intrigued gaze. “I’ve laid out here a few graphs and numbers in order to show where we should be at with the sales pipeline.”

So far, Light managed to keep his voice down, but a few people still glanced his way. He blinked slow and hard to keep from squeezing his eyes shut entirely. An excuse for afterward was what he needed. But before he assembled a single phrase to that end, another intensified pulse hit him. This rhythm was a propulsive swoop, petering out only to come back around harder, and shook loose Light’s concentration on anyone who wasn’t L stooped at the room’s head with one hand still square in his pocket—fiddling with Light’s insides without touching him at all.

“As you can see,” L’s other hand gestured to a screen, “our pipeline should continue building as time goes one.” He skimmed his finger along the upward curve, a movement so smooth and careful it looked near tender. Whatever attention Light summed up from his mind—that wasn’t focused on the throb in his pussy or hiding said throb’s effects—saw these caresses of erect line graphs and suffered. To see L fondle those graphs while praising their potential to grow higher was untenable. Almost worse, in fact, than when he stole a glance at Light with his eyes wicked and gleaming.

Light wanted the room to be empty: he wanted to be one of those graphs; he wanted to be alone in L’s—no, soon-to-be his—expansive office; and he wanted L to kiss him, and remind him how exceptional Light was. He wanted L to remind him why Light was so special, kiss his hands and feet while exclaiming the genius of hiring the smartest student in Japan. A hand snaked down into his lap and Light attempted to palm himself in a discreet move. But his secretive gesture was nothing L didn’t catch, and the indulgent smile he received melted Light’s insides.

“As many of you know,” L said, “my adopted father, Quillsh Wammy, and I developed this brand over many years. His passing down leadership into my hands represented a great deal of trust in me, something I hope you all share.”

In small circles, Light rubbed himself and bit down a few moans after a few sparks of bliss. L spoke a little further about legacy, but everything he said was vague. Confusion crinkled Light’s brow; L never spoke in vague terms. Another pleasurable bolt struck him then and muddied his confusion further. He was electric, stimulated to the point where if he touched someone, he was sure he’d shock them to death.

“I hope you all trust me and know my decisions are made carefully.” L continued. His presentation flickered off the screen; both his hands were in his pockets, pushing his jacket open like a feathered tail. “Including the decision I’m about to announce to you all first—I am stepping down from my position as CEO and,” he cast his eyes directly on Light, “I’m naming Light Yagami as the one to take my place.”

Light tilted forward, gasping, as the hardest vibration hit him along with L’s reveal. The heel of his palm caught his clit in a perfect press, and he struggled for air. Smattered claps filled the room; it was good cover the next throat-deep noise he made as he ground down on his palm. His orgasm spread through him in waves: first, the realization of his pleasure boiling over; second, that L said he was CEO, L said he was taking his place, oh God, oh God; and third, the violent thrum inside him reaching its peak and consuming him. He was elevated by giddy bliss—at such a height, he couldn’t see the sinkhole for miles. Light dropped his head to the table and inhaled through his nose, out his mouth. Shivers shook his body as he looked up and thanked the room. If his voice wavered, no one spoke up to it.

When he finally turned his eyes on L, the other man took his thanks with a soft _of course_, which was devastating in how it cooled the frenzy inside Light. The vibration cut short right after—only their phantoms echoed through him in search of a new home.

Congratulations came in flurries from people as they left the meeting—shaking Light’s hand and politely not mentioning the intense sweatiness of it. Interactions—all small and meaningless—washed over Light as he sat still half-numbed by orgasm. In place of arousal, he found a dawning realization of his promotion. It bubbled from his stomach and elated him. At last, he had what he wanted.

But as he shook hands with the last person to leave—standing at the door, trying to push them out gently—he caught L’s gaze from the head of the table. Cold, clear awareness overtook him from the assured sprawl L took his seat with; Light had gotten what he wanted, but he had not won their deal.

One perfect shining fingernail glowed under the room’s lamplight and beckoned Light back to L with a curled index. “Congratulations, mister CEO,” he said. “Come,” he patted his lap. Light’s mouth went dry. “I have a seat for you here, at the head of the table.”


	2. team building exercise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> L and Light work on building a productive, collaborative relationship through physical activity.

When he moved to New York, Light realized he’d never been alone before. He spent his time between work—the topsy-turvy free fall of selling to people who wanted desperately to not be fools, even though they all were—and his apartment, which was in a rent-controlled building L owned, populated by the man himself and a few close friends of Wammy’s. Everyone he spoke to from the barista of his preferred Starbucks to his co-workers dropping in to have “pow-wows” before weekly meetings told Light his living situation was ideal: good rent; one-bedroom with a roach-free kitchen; and time to himself.

“I’d kill to just have some free time,” Aiber, a junior executive whose job Light took two weeks later, told him at a teambuilding picnic. “Kids, wife, work. You’re lucky you’ve just got yourself. I bet you’re on top of the world.”

Light hated time to himself. He tried journaling, seeing films, and even starting a small garden on his windowsill. Nothing quite filled the void besides a spin-cycle class at his apartment’s gym, which Light went to near religiously. L saw him once while exiting his own boxing session and complimented his bike-shorts. It was always strange to see L in the building, even though Light knew he lived there. A few times he’d invited Light to his top floor loft and Light refused, too worried that the sinkhole forming under his inner foundation would be visible. So L just showed up at Light’s apartment instead and took him to dinner, asking about his journals and films and even about the garden.

_It must be so nice to be with people, _Light mused as L told him about his recent lunch with Wammy, spent pushing for Light’s promotions. _L has Wammy to support him and listen. I don’t have anyone. _

A year in the city passed and he remained frustrated in his solitude. On his usual Thursday dinner with L—an appointment that often extended into a late night sleepover—Light complained about what a lonely city New York was. He careful to conch the complaint in logistical issues rather than deep-seeded personal crises, stating he never had anyone to drive him to the airport. Chewing on his strawberry compote with the slow grace of an old giraffe, L shrugged.

“So you’re upset you don’t know anyone in New York,” he said, “because you have no one to take you to the airport?”

“Yes.” Light folded his hands over each other; his own plate had been cleaned minutes before, and he refused dessert. “I mean, no one I trust. In Japan, I’d just ask my mom or dad. To be honest, I’d even be able to ask my ex-girlfriend, although she’s not a very safe driver.”

“Take a cab.” L pointed at Light’s wine glass with his fork. “You should drink that—it’s really good. And expensive.”

“You order wine too sweet.” Taking a sip despite his complaint, Light frowned. “And I don’t like cabs. The solution to loneliness in the city isn’t getting in cars with strangers I paid.”

A few thoughtful chews and a swig from his own wine glass drew L into a picture of contemplation. He dropped his chin onto cradle of his entwined hands and hummed.

“I’ll drive you,” he said finally. Light swallowed more wine than he wanted, and coughed trying to get it down. Flecks of pink speckled the fabric table dressing.

“You know how to drive?” Light asked. L shrugged and forked another gluey, glimmering strawberry.

“I have a driver,” he said. “There. _Now_ is this a lonely city?”

The final vibration as gears slotted into the board room lock echoed through Light’s hands, taking him out of his memory and back into the board room. He turned from the door and started his journey to the table head. His attention fell on the view behind L into New York’s skyline. Nostalgia played at him again, but now it was mixed with the oddest feeling of coziness; in all the buildings stretched out and cutting through the sky, only one had himself and L together alone. Light stopped inches from the bend of L’s knee, but made no move to sit. L held out his hand.

“Your tie,” he said. “Hand it to me, and then take out your phone.”

Light dropped his gaze over L, whose outstretched hand flexed with his other hand draped in his lap over T-shirt folds. He never wore a collar or button-down beneath suits; a preference for casual dress reigned.

“Light.” L’s finger-snap tone yanked Light up to look him in the eye. “Are you being stubborn?”

“No,” Light shook his head. “I’m not stubborn.”

A raised brow disappeared beneath L’s black feather bangs, hung in sharp relief over his pale forehead. He tucked his hand back with its brother in his lap and settled into his chair, a coddling smile on his face.

“Did you, or didn’t you, come during the meeting?”

“I did.” Light slipped his hands into his pockets, rubbing the smooth line of his phone. “Hard not to get off when someone hands you that much power.”

“Hm.” Rolling his shoulders only to let them slope back into a hunch, L gave Light a wide-eyed stare. “Our deal was if you came, you’d do as I say for the day. Will you take a command, Light, or are you not a man of your word?” He tilted his head as he spoke, hair brushing his shoulders as he did. Light followed the movement, unable to glance away from L’s expression or his voice. “Answer me, mister CEO.”

“I can take your commands.”

“But will you?”

Air crept in and out between Light’s half-parted lips. The question stilted his heart; his answer was entwined to his sticky pride, and when he tried to touch it, it threatened to pull him into the sinkhole. Did it show on his face? He licked his lips and L’s eyes followed his tongue. A knobby, well-manicured hand reached out again, palm up and an order on its own.

Fingers haunted still by the lock’s echo, Light slipped his tie from its knot in short tugs. Silk oozed through his touch until it puddled from his hand into L’s. As the fabric hit his palm, L huffed in soft surprise.

“Oh,” he said. “It’s still warm from you.”

Light inhaled; without that breath, he feared losing his footing.

“Now, take out your phone.” L nodded as Light pulled his smart phone from his pocket. “You will call your secretary, and tell her you’re spending the day resting in my office. You aren’t to be expected back for the rest of the day.”

“And will I?”

“Will you what?” L piled Light’s tie on the table, folding it into a tower. He peered from under dark bangs, and Light huffed.

“Will I be resting in your office,” he said, “or am I going to be otherwise occupied?”

“That’s for me to know,” L said, “and you to find out.”

Yanking the tie from the table, L wrapped it around his own palm. He tightened his fingers into a fist—a dark green band across his knuckles like a weapon, reminding Light of the few times he’d seen L sweating it out at gym, his hands wrapped in boxer’s tape. Sweat bloomed down his back, turning to Rorschach blots, which read as bodies in mid-coitus to Light whenever he snuck peeks from the nearby gym water fountain. Every hit to the punching bag vibrated through him, as though it was his body thrumming with L, sweat, and hot skin-to-skin impact.

In his daydream of L’s workout routine, Light registered the vague sound of L telling him to report to the top floor after calling his secretary. He watched his tie wrapped around L’s fist disappear into a brown trouser pocket and dialed his phone, attention trailing along with L as he left the room. The phone rang. Light imagined himself cupped in the warm, tender squeeze his tie currently lived in.

After a short conversation, Light convinced his secretary to cancel his other meetings for the day. He left the board room and went to the men’s room first, stealing a stall from a frantic intern about to go in so Light could remove the vibrator. With one leg stepped onto the toilet, he slowly pulled the cord and shivered as the tip slipped out, seeing it swing and shimmer with his cum. Unsure what to do with it, Light put it in his pocket and flushed the toilet. Outside, the intern moaned; Light stayed in the stall a moment longer to see if the other man shit himself or not.

His elevator ride to L’s office was both quick and excruciating. Exiting the metal doors in a single step, Light traced his way over thick carpet decorated by black geometric shapes. Even his thin-soled shoes sunk into it as though slogging through pudding—thick, cushioned comfort to cut across the private CEO’s floor. Usually the place hummed with secretaries sweeping desk to desk with busy work, but now Light was alone as he traversed the hallway toward L’s office.

The single door was held open by a pair of shoes—L’s black brogues, surely discarded the moment he was free of associates—and Light peered through it, gazing around a room so familiar, yet foreign now that it was within his grasp. Furniture was limited to a dark couch, a small bar crowded by various coffee makers and sweets, and a long dark-wooded desk from which L watched him enter in the blood red leather chair once belonging to Wammy. His legs were bent to his chest and his jacket thrown over the chair back. A closed lip smile crossed his face as Light waved from the door.

“Hello again.” L returned the wave, albeit in a lazier fashion. “Take off your shoes.”

“Bossy.” Light wormed a finger down the heel of his shoe and worked it off. “Tie first, then my shoes. Do you have something against my accessories?”

“I didn’t say you got to interrogate my orders.” Pout simmered through L’s words, though his directions were eager still. “Socks too. I want to see your nice feet.”

“I know.” Warmth spread from Light’s chest into his voice as he eased a maroon crew sock off and glided to L’s desk while taking off the other. He twisted them together and dropped the pair in front of the other man. “Why don’t you order me to be quiet, if you’re so opposed to questions?”

“You wouldn’t listen, and I don’t want you to be quiet.” L poked one sock and grinned. “Just be a good boy who does as he’s told. Step around the desk now.”

Inhaling, Light trailed his hand over the desk—mussing the few files left over its surface and nabbing a framed picture. He knew the gold filigree by sight, though the feel was cooler than expected: a picture of a younger L and Wammy beaming together on a bridge, with L in a coat he’d confessed to Light was the first one he ever owned. Toying with the frame, Light leaned his hip on the desk edge. His thumb skimmed over Wammy’s face so he could focus on the ruddy cheeks of tiny L next to him, his dark crow feather hair the same hair brushing Light’s knuckle as L kissed his fingers.

“I can’t see you ever being this small.” Light leaned toward L’s touch, letting himself be coaxed to sit in his lap. “This round either.”

“We’re all small at some point.” L kissed his ring finger at the base. His breath rushed from his nose, tickling the tiny hairs on Light’s hand. “It was quite strange to move here, when I was younger, and barely knew Quillsh. It felt as though I were just a misplaced suitcase that this nice old man was trying to get back to his home. Until, of course, I figured out that I _was_ home. He meant for me to be where I was.”

He reached down and tapped Light’s foot. In a near silent glide, Light lifted and propped it on the armrest. Cool crawling giddiness ran through his skin as L skittered his fingers over the strong arch, the jut of his ankle bone, the blue veins just barely raised.

“I’d love to see you with a color here,” L said, thumbing over Light’s bare big toe. “What color do you like best? I see you wear red so often.”

Light wiggled his toes within L’s tender clasp. “Blue,” he said. “I want blue toes with your fingers matching.” Placing the frame onto the desk, he draped one arm across the back of L’s shoulders and fingered his collar. “Aren’t you going to ask me to do something fun?”

L raised an eyebrow but leaned upward to kiss Light by the jaw. Their faces were close enough for Light to smell a mix of fresh cotton and a little left over breakfast grapefruit on L’s breath. He kissed L on his gaunt cheek and acquiesced to a hand on his chin, directing their mouths to meet. Tongues touched and explored the familiar homes of each other. Sparks flew and lit every shuttered candelabra within Light.

Between breaths, L eased both Light’s wrists behind his back and murmured praises into his teeth. Silk slithered around into a complex, disordered knot until Light was restrained by his own tie. Dull ache emanated from his shoulders and went ignored as L stroked his face, finger dragging from his lower lip down to his loosened collar and hooking into a shirt button. His tugs were teasing—just hard enough to show he was serious, but never rough.

“Tell me how you feel.”

“Warm.” Light ran his tongue over his upper lip, tasting a hint of salt and citrus. “Hungry. Ready for more.”

“You were upset when you came in today.” L stared past Light’s flippant answer and narrowed his gaze. “I’ve seen you look that way before, like you’re upset about something invisible. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Light.” L’s rebuke was firm and struck a chord deep in Light’s belly. “Don’t lie to me.”

With his finger hooked in it, L undid the first button of Light’s shirt and the next down. Light stared down at his hands—their fluid and methodical weaving baring his skin—and thought of all the times L undressed him before. His usual speed was demanding, spoiled, but this time L worked slowly; even in their fluid movement, he sensed hesitation in L’s hands. Worried he might yank off a button? Unused to clothes more complicated than merely slipping on and off? Once he undid the last button, L bent his head and licked Light’s right nipple. His mouth closed on the bud and sucked, a fierce and intimate sensation drawing a throaty moan from Light.

“Ah!” His hands twitched in their bindings. “L! What –”

“The other one then?” Spit strung between his lips and the darkened bud as L lifted his face from Light’s chest. He descended on the left nipple, licking and kissing this one with a hint of tooth scraping the delicate nerves. “How responsive these are,” L whispered as he rubbed where spit was drying on the right bud. “Tell me if you like this. I can guess, but I’d like to hear you plainly.”

Light gasped, his tongue heavy and wet against the gust of breath. “Hard to say.” His voice was gritty in his own ears, and he leaned into the pinching touch, squeezing his thighs together to trap the hot rush of arousal between them. “I think I like it.” Biting back another moan as L thumbed both buds over and over, Light shut his eyes and clenched his bound hands. “Mm. I like it. I like it!”

“Tell me why you were upset,” L said.

“I wasn’t upset.” A disappointed groan followed Light’s words as L released his nipples. “I was fine. Just tired.”

“Haven’t we slept together before?” L’s lips brushed Light’s chest, ghosting over the gold hair and up toward his neck. “Haven’t we had sex at an incredibly late hour before?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’ll agree that I’ve seen what you look like when you’re ‘just tired.’ And you had a different look earlier. Tell me how you’re feeling.”

Light closed his eyes, hoping to focus himself on the electric ministrations L cursed his throat with. Instead, his body—his house, his home, where all the candles were blazing—sunk an inch into the sinkhole. What did L care how he felt? Those nights he mentioned weren’t some kind of paradise; L never stayed in bed for when Light woke up, and his assessments came from seeing him in the office the next day.

“Are you not going to tell me, again?” L whispered.

“There’s nothing for me to tell you,” Light replied. “So ask all you want.”

“Fine.” L dropped a kiss on Light’s stomach, his grin tickling the flexing expanse. “I don’t need to ask, anyway. I’m right and you’re stubborn.”

A grumble whittled out of Light’s throat. His attention bounced between the sour-sweet ache in his arms and L easing his zipper down. With his dark eyes focused on divesting the pants from Light’s lower half, his right hand squeezed the taut thigh muscles Light proudly flexed into his grasp.

“Ah.” L raised his eyebrow and looked up. “The pay-off of that spin class?”

“Yes. And not just with the legs.” Light said. “Endurance too.”

“Then I guess you’ll be able to do quite a bit of overtime tonight, yes?”

L tightened his hand. He inhaled and lifted Light from his lap with a little help from those strong thighs he gripped. As Light slid onto the desk, his pants were tugged off. Revealed in their absence was his briefs, still damp from his orgasm in the board room and, to be honest, the ministrations L had been visiting on him since then. Their dark cotton did little to hide his arousal – small cock just lifting the fabric and straining to be touched. Yet his head wasn’t in tune with the heat his body generated. Light’s thoughts swarmed the sinkhole, one after another: Why did L want to kiss him like this; what did he want from Light; did he love him? The last thought stung as it went through him.

“Are you wet?” L thumbed over the damp black cotton, his tone teasing. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

The questions grated on Light: ridiculous and uninteresting. “What are you doing?” He huffed, good-will toward L drying on his tongue. “Are you making fun of me?”

“What? No. I would never make fun of you.” L paused, rolling his eyes back and forth in contemplation. “Not about this. Maybe other things.”

“I know. You make fun of me all the time.” The sinkhole rumbled in Light’s thoughts, shifting their patterns into more and more frustrating arrays. “Why wouldn’t you make fun of me right now, hm? Because you want me like this, like a present for you?”

“Light,” L said. “Where are you? Are you with me?”

“Of course. Of course, I’m right here, aren’t I?” Light shook his head, only to have the movement halted by L catching his jaw in his palm. Gentle pressure on the skin and bone lifted his gaze to meet L’s.

“I want you here,” L said, “with me.”

Between his eyes and L’s, a curtain fell and Light saw within the other man’s theatre—naked props of concern, arousal, and fondness strewn in unconstructed clutter. There was nothing hidden, or made into artifice. Light closed his eyes; he couldn’t let L reveal himself like this.

“Look at me,” L ordered. “Tell me what you’re feeling.”

The sinkhole rippled from the command. Light’s eyes fluttered open, and he tiled his jaw into L’s palm.

“I feel alone,” he said. “I feel distant.”

“Are you alone right now?”

“Maybe. I’m always alone,” Light bit his lip before continuing, feeling it pulse under his teeth, “but I never used to be. Back home in Japan. I always had people around and I never felt like this, like…”

He stopped. L rubbed his thumb over Light’s chin and hummed.

“Tell me how you feel,” he ordered.

“Like there’s a sinkhole inside me,” Light said, “and I’m going to drown in the hole with no one to pull me out.”

“I’ll do it.” L kissed one hot cheek, his breath washing over Light’s skin. “I’ll pull you out. But you have to let me. Can you let me do that, Light?”

All the air in his lungs swirled in Light’s throat as he exhaled long and hard. He gasped, arching into L’s continued kisses down his throat—the hand once cupping his jaw now dancing down to hold his waist.

“You’re not alone.” The statement burned from L’s tongue to Light’s neck, licked there as he spoke. “Let me bring you home, Light. Let me make you a home.”

Light moaned, his body twitching further and further toward the feather-light touches. Arousal swelled in his belly, but more than that was a sensation of floating. His limbs unstuck from the thudding, restless frustration to rise toward a golden and glistening sense of warmth. No thoughts, or sinkhole: Only the coax of L’s hands and voice cupped for Light to bed himself in.

“Yes,” Light breathed out. “Yes.”

His legs spread for L and as the other man slipped between them, their crotches pressed into hot friction. The sensation was shared—a universe of pleasure connected by a star system of two. Light tucked one leg around L’s hip and pulled him closer, eyes squeezing shut as fire built in his pussy. A finger roved over his eyelid and tapped until Light opened them, staring into L’s flushed, joyous face.

“Lay back.” His eyes flickered over Light’s face, eager in their consumption of his heaving. “Keep your eyes on me, Light.”

“Yes.” Light leaned forward and captured L’s mouth in a kiss. The kiss was molasses and sweet, a syrupy glide that ached in slowness. Hard and burning against him was L’s erection, covered by his pants. Together they eased his body downward until the edges of stationary, pens, and the company ledger dug into Light’s back. He squirmed, trying for comfort, until L brushed the items aside as he pulled away from the kiss. Hands tugged Light’s underwear to his thighs, which L bent down and covered with small nips, soft kisses as he removed the briefs entirely.

Where he expected the room to feel cold on his bare legs, Light instead was swaddled in the excess heat their collective friction left behind. He blinked and licked his lips. “You haven’t taken off your pants,” Light said. “Going to be hard to fuck me with them on.”

A laugh, short and brisk, proceeded the click of L’s zipper opening, his pants button undone. Underneath was no barrier of fabric—only the pink excitement of his cock near begging to be let out. L untucked it and stroked the length, fingers wrapped around the thick girth while he fumbled with a desk drawer. At last, he took out a condom and lube packet and applied both to his cock while Light watched, glassy eyed and absently rubbing his calf over L’s ass, his thigh. Continued contact kept the warmth suffused through his limbs, with the soft uttered commands L gave him—“Stay with me. Legs open, that’s it. I want to see how much you want it, how hot you must be”—like kindling thrown into fire.

Slick and aching was the push of L inside Light, his pussy quivering at the stretch but eased by a thumb teasing his cock. Pulses of electricity shot through him with every caress that only intensified as L began to rock his hips. Each movement shuddered the desk and let out uneven creaks. The urge to shut his eyes, submerge himself in the bliss of a good fuck, rose in Light but he fought it. He’d been told to keep them open, to keep them on L.

“That’s it,” L said and bent in for a kiss—Light gasping into it as his cock filled him to the hilt. Another thrust rocked the picture frame off the desk and it clattered to the carpet. “Good boy. Does it hurt? Tell me if it hurts.”

“No.” Light nipped L on the lower lip and gave it a playful lick. “It’s good. A little sore, but not painful. I like it.”

He tilted his head back, throat exposed for L to cover with territorial bruises. Pleasure whittled his thoughts away inch by inch until his mind was only the moans and cries he let out upon each thrust. L pinched his nipples, caressed his sides, and grasped Light by the ass, holding him tight as he fucked into him. He was surrounded by L, until Light was sure their molecules must have fused. A sob tripped from his tongue and tears pricked his eyes, still open and focused on L.

“Come for me,” L murmured as Light jerked and cried against him. “I’ll hold you. Just come. Let me know how good you feel.”

“Yes,” Light gasped. “Yes, yes. O-oh, fuck. I’m coming.”

When he came, Light clung to L with his chin hooked on the other man’s shoulder. L came after him, the weak ripples of his cum filling the condom still echoing inside Light. Their breath rushed out in twin thrushes, pounding invisible dents into each other’s collars. After a moment, L lifted his mouth to kiss Light’s cheek.

Squeezing his fists in their tie-wrapped prison, Light considered every part of himself. The soreness settling in his arched back; the small twinges of discomfort from the realized weight of the cock inside him; and the sweat on his body kissing the loose fabric of L’s shirt, staining it with each gentle brush. Everything was buried with the sensation of someone else, of L touching and being near him. It filled the sinkhole until there was no hole—only a solid and immovable ground where Light touched down into his body against L’s.

“Do,” Light started, stopping to swallow a groan before continuing. “Do you love me, L?”

L pulled back and stared at Light. His wide eyes bore down in genuine focus; nothing mischievous hid behind them and Light nearly squirmed at their seriousness.

“I love you,” he said. “Don’t you know that? I always want you around.”

A soft gasp released from Light, and he shut his eyes. Head tilted back, he squeezed them tight and braced himself as pure satisfaction rushed through him. Not alone. Loved. Held. L dropped to mumble and caress concern over Light.

“Are you still with me?” L asked. “Are you home with me? Do you hear me?”

“I’m with you,” Light gasped. “I’m right here. I’m home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a comment baybee or you'll suffer ennui.


	3. holiday special

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> its the holiday special where we check in on these two, and see what they're doing during the winter months. probably having sex, or playing with bdsm power dynamics, i bet.

Late afternoon poured over the top floor hallway through each stained glass window Light passed. He glimpsed the city in blue, in purple, in red. On the other wall, tinted those many colors, were paintings hung at uneven intervals. A few gold frames displayed landscapes, some showed abstract shapes, and the last frame hung at the right of L’s apartment door – a portrait of the man himself in a white suit, dark eyes luminous despite the dried paint and watching Light insert his personal key into the lock. They were all by the same artist, a woman of Wammy’s past who went by Linda and no other name.

He slipped inside and released the breath trapped in his throat – home at last in L’s penthouse apartment. All day, work had hounded him in that pleasant yet burning chase only runners love: the pain of continuous successful motions. His Friday had been a series of those motions – meetings and direct phone calls to get shipments and orders on track – around his holiday bedecked office. Even after several years with the comapny, Light still found it odd how festive things got around the office. Light’s secretary insisted that the company morale went up when he decorated, so he let her string lights and put up a tree. However, she wasn’t allowed to touch his desk – or rather, L’s old desk. Too many hidden treats for Light alone were liable to reveal themselves and scandalize her.

But now Light was off for a long holiday break. A faint anxiety rumbled in his head over what the holidays brought. He’d spent his first few Christmases and New Years in the city making his own fun, as L always went off to see Wammy and came back right on January 1st. As for this year, Light wasn’t sure. L mentioned nothing about his plans and Light, busy with running a company, hadn’t found time to push the issue.

Anxiety drifting as he locked the front door, Light dropped his keys in the handmade key bowl – a gift Sayu created and sent him as a promotion present – and put his wallet, coat, and belt onto a shelf rack overhead. He bent to untie his laces and wormed a finger into the back of his wingtips, working them off until he was in his thin black socks. Next off was his tie and suit jacket, but the rest of his clothes remained as Light padded from the hallway to the front room. Papers strewn over the sofa and coffee table bore dark red slashes – a sure sign that L’s editing process had begun. Now that the ex-business man had time to spare, L’s writing hobby had grown into a mystery novel series published under a pseudonym.

Light picked up a few pages to flip through as he left the front room on toward the study, whose open door spilled leftover sunset across the floor – an invitation. A few lines remained unstruck-through by red ink – _Latrell swung the bed covers a loft, just high enough for Peter to imagine he was throwing a death shroud over him _– but the rest were unreadable. He liked, however, to see peeks of what L wrote before it was edited into a version Light was allowed to read. L made Light read his second drafts on each novel and give critiques, although he protested to half of them.

“I just think you should give the main character a family,” Light would say and point to how Latrell had almost no motivation at the third novel’s start. “He can’t just come and go with nothing tying him down.”

“Peter ties him down!” L, chewing his almond cookies with fervor, would respond before relenting and letting Light write down a scene for suggestion.

“Sometimes one person isn’t enough,” Light told him and thought of as he entered the study now, papers in his hand. “Families can be good, you know. If they’re the right people.”

On the window seat, his elbow held on the glass and hand cupping his forehead, L looked like he was reading. Of course, appearances deceived; L’s eyes flickered to Light as soon as he stepped a socked foot inside.

“You’re very dressed,” he said. “Take off your shirt and pants.”

His voice dipped into a commanding tone, reverberating through Light’s fingers as he hastily undressed. Pants went quick and so did his shirt – his socks, however, he eased off while standing perfectly naked. He’d let the papers fall to the floor, L’s attention focused on the aching tugs he gave to the cashmere socks until his blue painted toes were free.

“That’s better,” L smiled. “How are you?”

“Good. Ready for my holiday break.” Light took a pillow from the chaise lounge pressed along a shelf-lined wall and tucked it under his knees as he knelt by L. A steady hand carded through his hair. “What are you reading?”

“Nothing good.” L tossed the book aside, taking Light’s face in both hands before kissing him. Their mouths worked to open each other and warmth tumbled forth. Excitement built between Light’s legs the harder L kissed him, held him near. His eyes closed; he was floating in bliss.

“Welcome home.” A pop sounded as L pulled back, rubbing his thumbs over Light’s cheekbones. “Welcome back.”

“Can I touch you?” Light asked, vision hazy as he looked at L.

“Yes.” L near purred as Light cupped his jaw and tilted into his palm. “Oh, I love it when you pet me.”

“You’re an animal.” Wiggling his finger behind L’s ear, Light scratched him in gentle strokes. “An attention loving little animal. I’m supplicated to a beast.”

“And you’re kneeling in your beast’s most lovely nest,” L said. “Just where a good boy belongs. Kiss me again.”

Chaste, Light pressed his lips firm to L’s cheek and then again to his mouth. “Are you planning anything this year for the holidays?” A shiver ran through Light as L stroked a hand over his back, fingers tracing the raised knobs of his spine and dancing right above his bottom. “Ah. There, please.”

Jolting from the palm on his jaw, L slipped his hands down and grasped Light by his ass. He yelped, hefted aloft before settling onto L’s lap, which brought Light into contact with the hardening curve of his cock beneath grey sweatpants. His hands pressed to L’s chest, sunk into his blue sweater’s soft give.

“Here, beloved?” L dropped his hands to cup just beneath Light’s cheeks, lifting them with his index fingers until Light shivered at the exposure. “You love this, hm? Love to be held like this?”

“Yes, sir.” Fog seeped through Light’s mind as L squeezed and caressed his body: the same pleasant fog of submission that washed Mister CEO away from him entirely. Light tucked himself into L’s neck, back arched as he moved alongside the warm hands molded to his nudity. His mouth parted and sweated spit-wet moans into that pale throat. L brought his thumb to Light’s cock, teasing the red bud to fuller hardness.

“I’m going to spend this holiday unwrapping you many times over,” L said. “Each expression you make is an even better gift than the last.”

Light surfaced from his fog an inch and swallowed hard. “Are we staying h-here?” His question wavered as L rubbed a clever finger over his nipple. “You’re skipping Wammy’s?”

“I don’t need to see old Quillsh when I’ve got family right in my lap,” L murmured, though Light heard hesitation in his dismissal. Steeling himself from the rising heat in his pussy and stomach, Light rose from L’s neck to catch his dark eyed gaze.

“We could go together,” he said.

“I don’t need to go.” L took his hands off Light and crossed his arms, pouting. An unease dropped in Light’s stomach, and he whined. His pussy crackled with frustrated arousal even as sadness dripped through his thoughts. Did he go too far in asking? At once Light wanted to please L, whose carved out dominance made a home for Light to rest in, and yet he wanted to shake him for being petulant.

Light wormed his hands under L’s sweater and flattened his palms on his stomach. Each breath lifted and sunk with L’s nervous, eager breathes. Slowly he scooted his palms up along with the sweater and started to kiss his belly, humming as the fresh-laundered scent of L’s body hair came to his nose. As he traveled down, he spoke into the thin skin and felt the answering vibrations on his lips.

“I know you don’t need to go,” Light said. “But don’t you want to?”

“What I want,” L murmured, his hand stroking through Light’s hair and pushing him toward his rising cock, “is to have you to myself. Wammy wouldn’t understand. He’d ask questions.”

“Hm.” Light blew over L’s belly button and kissed it; in response, L tightened his fingers. “All to yourself?”

“That is what I said.”

“Don’t you want to show everyone?”

A pause strung between them as Light ran his fingernail beneath L’s waistband: never lifting; only touching. Confusion glassed L’s eyes and his silence expected another move from Light, who smiled red-lipped, willful. As the hand at his crown gripped him with gentle roughness, a calculated dominance called for him to supplicate, hand over his body. Mixing with that familiar submissive fog, however, was a sublime cunning: He was building something.

“Don’t you want to take me to Wammy’s and show them your best gift?” Light tugged the waistband lower and licked the gooseflesh beneath. “I’ll be freshly fucked and all yours, obedient to whatever you say. Maybe you’ll give me a bruise on my neck. Maybe it’ll show when I take off my scarf.”

“Maybe I’ll give you it now,” L murmured. He squeezed and pulled Light by his hair, bringing his throat right to L’s mouth. His kiss was hard; Light cried out at the sting and heat both teeth and lips brought. Another hand came to his cock and thumbed over it, spreading the wetness that had been building since L first touched him that afternoon.

“Ah!” Sharp yelps leapt from Light, who bent toward the possessive kiss. “Yes!”

“There.” L soothed his skin with a long lick. “Don’t hide this. You wear it very well.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You want me to take you to Wammy’s? You want to shake his hand still full of my cum?” L grinned and Light met his smile; now they were playing the same game. “I’ll bring you to his holiday party where all the richest assholes rub elbows. I bet he’ll ask you about profits. He always wants to talk about business during the holidays. But you’ll be too fucked out to talk shop, won’t you?”

“Oh.” Light’s answer was caught between interest and a moan as L tucked a finger inside him. “O-oh. Mm-hm.”

“I’ll sit you in my lap while you tell him everything that’s happening,” L continued. “Maybe I’ll put you right on top of my cock, so you can feel how hard I am to fuck you again. You’ll rub yourself back on me, won’t you?”

“Y-yes.” Rocking into the now two fingers inside him, Light whined. “I won’t be able to help myself. Your cock is so big, and I’ll want it back inside me right away.”

“Of course you will. Everyone at that nice party will have to see you desperate and horny on my lap. Eager for your beast to have you again.”

“Ow!” Tears bit at Light’s eyes as L yanked his hair again. “Hurts. It hurts.”

L stopped. “Too much?” His wide eyes flickered over Light’s pained expression. “What color?”

“Yellow,” Light huffed. “No more hair, please.”

With a nod, L smoothed his hand from Light’s hair to his shoulder.

“Is this better?”

“Much. Thank you, Sir.” Light thrust back on the inert fingers in him. “Keep going. Keep telling me about what you’ll do to me at Wammy’s.”

“I’ll make sure your nipples are hard before we go, so everyone sees those tight buds through your shirt,” L said. “They’ll ask if you’re cold, and you will tell them no. You’ll be my good boy and tell them the truth.”

L eased his fingers from Light and used both hands to pinch his nipples, soothing them with his thumbs as Light moaned.

“You’ll tell them you’re a little slut,” he continued, “with hard nipples Sir gave you.”

“Mm,” Light nodded. “I’m a little slut, Sir.”

“Suck my cock, beloved.” A gentle hand pressed down on Light’s shoulder as he lowered himself until he kissed L’s sweatpants-trapped cock. “Go ahead. Take it out and suck while I tell you what happens.”

Eager fingered, Light slid the sweatpants down and L’s boxer with them. He dropped his face to inhale the humid, musky scent, heart swelling at the intimate knowledge of his partner’s body. Spitting into his palm, Light grasped the cock’s root and pumped along the shaft. Tongue rolled out, he balanced the reddened tip on its pink expanse and sucked, taking in the head and hollowing his cheeks.

“I’m going to take you in the guest room at Wammy’s stupid ugly mansion,” L said, his voice hoarse. “It’s so far out from the city, you can’t hear anything and I’ll fuck you in all that silence. All we’ll hear is you begging for more.” He tossed his head back as Light moved to deep-throat him, slick clicks echoing with each steady stroke. “Every minute we’re alone, I’ll have you naked. No underwear for the visit either. I want you ready all the time.”

Light shut his eyes and imagined being nude amongst this fantasy opulence. All he saw was L holding him. The cock tip hit the back of his throat and Light choked once, sliding up and off only to begin kissing the shaft. Tender kisses peppered L’s tip as Light’s hand cupped the man’s balls and teased their sensitive flesh. L bit his lip and stuttered in his speech.

“We’ll have b-breakfast and you’ll still be flushed from a morning fuck,” L continued. “Wammy will have a poached egg, and we’ll share pancakes. I’ll give you forkfuls from my plate. He’ll ask you why we’re so close now and you’ll s-say…”

His voice trailed off and his eyes went glassy. Light massaged his tongue over the underside of his head, but stopped as L’s expression remained lost.

“I’ll say I’m a little slut.” Light supplied. “Right?”

“No.” L shook his head. “You’ll say that it’s because you love me. And I love you.”

Light’s hands froze.

“And Wammy will ask if that’s why I hired you. If I’m sure a relationship with someone is the best idea. If it’s wise for the future of the company, for my future. And I’ll say…”

“That you love me,” Light finished for him. “And we’re each other’s future, the best future anyone could ask for.”

A hairline smile fractured L’s face, even as his cock wilted a bit. Light let go of it, rose from his crotch and slipped into thin arms outstretched. Their embrace slotted bodies together as puzzle pieces until Light fit snug against L.

“I’m sorry,” L said, his breath ruffling Light’s sweat soaked hair. “I ruined the story.”

“Is that what you’re afraid will happen?” Light asked.

“I’m not afraid it will happen. I know it will. He’s asked and prodded about me and you for years. Now that we’re…” L rubbed his lips in thought. “Now that we’re together, things will be different.”

“That doesn’t mean they’ll be bad,” Light said. “Just different.” He inhaled slowly and turned, looking L in the eyes with all his Mister CEO muster. “If I’m your family now,” he said, “I deserve to meet your other family. You’ve seen my home. I want to see yours. I deserve to see yours.”

L nodded, his one arm wrapped around Light’s back stroking him in circles. “Yes. I suppose you do.” He tapped his fingers as his tone turned methodical. “We’ll need to pack tonight. Wammy throws his holiday party tomorrow and if we take the earliest train, we can be there before nightfall.”

“Before that,” Light put his hand over L’s mouth, halting his speech, “we need to take care of something.”

“Hm?”

“Well.” Licking his lips, Light nuzzled his nose to L’s cheek and squeezed his legs together. “Don’t I need to be fucked out before the party?”

...

They decided to pack their bags in the morning instead.

**Author's Note:**

> hey hey hey. if you enjoyed this fic, please leave a comment and let me know what you liked! i crave the attention, much like many goats crave that mineral. want to see more of me? check me out on tumblr, @translightyagami. thanks!


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